


Cracked

by orphan_account



Series: some deep meaningful title [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angel!Stiles, M/M, Pre-Slash, Scott is fed up of your worry for each other disguised thinly as anger and irritation, hunter!Derek, hunter!Scott, i still don't know where i'm going with this, rainbows and sunshine mccall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a hunter and Stiles is his angel with personal space issues. Together they fight crime.<br/>With the help of actual puppy Scott McCall.</p><p>('We don't fight crime Stiles.')<br/>('Excuse me for thinking eating people counts as a crime.')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracked

Stiles thinks it’s unfair.

It’s not like he _meant_ to get injured. It was accidental and thus, the whole thing was an accident. But Derek is glaring at him like Stiles insulted his precious Camaro and Stiles is not about to apologise for getting hurt.

For God’s sake, it was the _wendigo’s_ fault for trying to eat people in the first place. So Derek should go blame the wendigo.

At least Scott is being helpful and guiding him to the car.

Stiles moves to get in the car but Derek appears out of nowhere and growls, “Up.”

Stiles glares at him. “I promise to get as little blood on your precious car as possible, okay? But I have a huge gaping hole in my side and I am _not_ walking all the way to the motel.”

“I’m not going to make you walk. Get up so I can stitch you up,” Derek says impatiently.

Stiles blushes and hopes Derek can’t tell in the dark.

 “Fine,” he tries to sound to annoyed but the whole effect is rendered useless because a moment later he stumbles, then slumps completely against Derek.

“Stiles.”

Stiles is very comfortable. He doesn’t want to move. The night air is cold, he moves closer to Derek.

“Stiles, I have to stitch you up.”  Derek’s voice is softer this time, gentler.

Stiles sighs and manoeuvres his body so that his injured side is not pressed against Derek but he can still walk with Derek’s help. It feels like he used up most of his energy, along with his grace, to kill the wendigo.

It hurts to walk. It hurts to do anything other than breathe but he moves, and somehow manages to make his way to the hood of the Camaro.

He sits on top of it, gritting his teeth, one hand holding on tightly to Derek’s shirt as he stitches up his side.

He can’t tell where Scott is, probably rummaging around in the trunk.

Derek finishes and keeps the first-aid kit in the trunk and returns to his position before Stiles. Stiles lets the wind wash over him.

“You shouldn’t have used your powers. It’s not like you have much left,” Derek says. Stiles feels a red-hot flare of anger.

“You and Scott _both_ would’ve died,” Stiles snaps.

“The situation was under control!”

Stiles snorts. “The situation was _out_ of control.”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing.

“Oh God, you guys. Can’t we go back and you can bicker later? I’m covered in mud and ashes and I really, _really_ want a shower,” Scott says. "Why can't we celebrate the fact that we all, I don't know, _survived_?"

Derek and Stiles both glare at Scott but start moving. Well, Stiles starts moving but almost falls, again. Derek huffs and slips a hand around his shoulders, supporting most of his weight.

Stiles makes to move towards the backseat but Scott gets there first.

“Nu-uh, I’m taking a nap,” he says and then slips into the back, stretching out as far as the seat will allow him.

Stiles makes a face at him and Derek  deposits him in the passenger seat, before moving around to the driver’s side.

  


The ride to the motel is uncomfortably silent, except for Scott’s snores in the background.

  


When they reach the motel, Stiles collapses on one of the twin beds. He’s still got a bit of his grace left, he doesn’t _need_ to sleep per se, but he wants to lie there and do nothing for a while. A long while. Possibly for eternity.

He loses track of what Derek and Scott are doing, maybe an hour or two before Derek creeps onto the bed with him. Stiles looks up and spots Scott’s mop of hair on the other one.

“There’s no couch and he refused to sleep on the same bed as me. We rock, paper, scissored for it. I don’t know how he always wins.” 

“’S because you always choose rock,” Stiles slurs sleepily. 

“Do not,” Derek mutters.

“Shh,” he covers Derek’s mouth with his hand. “Go to sleep.”

And Derek does.

 

 


End file.
